


Sweater Weather

by Alexis_Rockford



Series: Fictober 2018: 31 Fandoms in 31 Days [7]
Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games), Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, F/M, Fictober, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, One Shot, Reality TV, Rescue, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Alexis_Rockford
Summary: While investigating a series of accidents on the set of a cooking competition show, Nancy finds herself trapped in a walk-in freezer. Thank goodness for sweaters!This ficlet was written in response to the Fictober prompt for October 7, 2018: Cashmere





	Sweater Weather

For once, Nancy was glad her dad had suggested she dress warmly. If she hadn’t been wearing the new cashmere sweater her lawyer father had bought her for her birthday, she might have caught hypothermia by now. As it was, she was still bouncing on her toes with her hands tucked into her armpits trying to keep her blood circulating. She supposed it served her right for confronting her suspect without telling anyone what she was planning. Now she was locked inside the huge walk-in freezer on the set of the cooking competition show, _Sliced_ , and no one knew she was missing.

“Stupid move,” she muttered, her teeth clattering together like castanets. She shivered and once again pushed her shoulder hard against the door. Unfortunately, she still couldn’t seem to shift whatever the culprit had pushed in front of it to impede her escape. With a sigh, she slowly eased her right hand out of her underarm and reached into the back pocket of her mom jeans for her smartphone. There was still one person she could try to contact, even if he was several states away. Her fingers were so cold at this point that she could barely feel the plastic case as she slid it out. Hastily, she scrolled through her list of contacts and dialed Ned Nickerson’s number.

The phone rang and rang for what seemed like ages. Finally, someone answered. “Hello?”

Nancy was startled by the female voice on the other end of the line. “D-Deirdre?” she asked incredulously.

“I can --- hear you ---- connection really bad--- is this?”

Nancy sighed, noting that her phone had barely one bar of reception. Of course. “Deirdre, this is Nancy,” she yelled into the receiver. “I need help!”

But all she heard was the beep as the phone disconnected. “Rats,” she cursed.

One of the worst things about being trapped in here was all the time she had to think. And she did. Her recent break-up with Ned played over and over again in her mind. Usually, she was pleased at her detective’s attention to detail and her sharp memory, but when it came to reliving unpleasant events, she wished her brain wasn’t quite so retentive. The whole debacle had been her fault, she knew. Traipsing off to Iceland and forgetting their anniversary had been the final nail in the coffin, but she had realized their relationship was dying for months. Their fight while she had been in Germany had been a clear indication of that. After the way she had spoken to him, could she really blame Ned for breaking it off and seeing other girls? Even if that girl happened to be Deirdre Shannon.

Regret prickled at her skin, as cold and unforgiving as the layer of frost that was beginning to build on her hair and eyelashes. And yet, if she had really cared about Ned, would she really have treated him so poorly? Perhaps it had been for the best that they went their separate ways. He could find a more attentive girlfriend, and she had more time to pursue her sleuthing. Of course, where had that led her but to be stuck in a freezer slowly turning into a human Popsicle?

She sat on the floor near to the door on the off chance that a scrap of heat might reach her through an invisible crack. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and hugged herself for warmth, enjoying the feel of the soft wool against her rapidly cooling skin. She struggled desperately against the sleepiness that threatened to overwhelm her. _Think about something, anything,_ she told herself as her eyelids began to droop.

A face appeared before her, and it wasn’t the one she was expecting. Frank Hardy had been assisting her with her current case. A series of accidents had been haunting the set of Sliced, and it was getting so bad, the network was threatening to pull the show. Bess couldn’t bear the idea of her favorite guilty pleasure being cancelled, so she had offered Nancy’s services in determining the cause of the sabotage. Since Bayport was only a few hours from NYC where the show was filmed, Frank had driven down to offer an extra pair of eyes. Nancy never turned down either of the Hardy brothers’ help, especially since they were all so busy that they rarely saw each other anymore. He was currently uptown following up a lead which may or may not have involved breaking into one of the food critics’ penthouse apartments. Frank always left his phone in the car when performing delicate operations such as this that required stealth. She had tried calling him first, but she was sent straight to voicemail.

It seemed odd that he should be the last person she thought of before drifting into unconsciousness. She had always shared an easy camaraderie with Frank, but since she had been dating Ned for their entire acquaintance, she had never considered him as anything more than a friend. Now that she was huddled in the corner of the icebox slowly freezing to death, she found herself remembering his sassy humor, the security of his congratulatory hug when she solved a case, the way his eyes sparkled when he was following up on a hunch. She could imagine every bit of him as though he were actually standing before her....shaking her gently...calling her name…

“Nancy, wake up!”

She struggled to lift first one eyelid, then another. “F-Frank?” she whispered.

“Oh, thank God!” he cried as he began to slowly chafe her frozen limbs. “Yes, Nancy it’s Frank. Can you hear me?”

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she mumbled groggily. She noticed that she was lying on the kitchen floor with Frank hovering above her like an overprotective angel.

“I got worried when you didn’t pick up my calls, so I took the subway back here as quickly as I could.” He gently pulled her into a sitting position and began to rub her hands. Soon, she could feel life returning to her numb fingers.

Once he was sure she would remain conscious, Frank pulled out his cellphone and called 911. Nancy surveyed him blearily as he spoke with the dispatcher. Deep lines furrowed his forehead, and he ran his free hand through his hair in agitation. To anyone else, he probably looked a mess, but to her, he was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

As he hung up, his dark eyes returned to hers. “Here,” he said, removing his cardigan and wrapping it around her. “It’s not as fancy as yours, but it should do the job.”

It may not be as fancy, but it certainly was gloriously warm. Nancy buried her nose in its sleeve and breathed in its scent. She never realized how good Frank smelled before. He sat on the floor next to her and draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She nestled into his embrace, feeling safe and content despite her extremities tingling as they slowly adjusted back to the correct temperature.

“I’m so glad it’s sweater weather,” she sighed, nuzzling his neck gently with her nose. He leaned over and kissed her hair in silent agreement.


End file.
